


you get lighter the more it gets dark

by Jedi_of_Books_and_Snacks



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: F/M, Pining, Writer's Month 2019, he does not sleep with Tsunemori, sad Kogami is sad, so you know, this is more of a character piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 22:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20454563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jedi_of_Books_and_Snacks/pseuds/Jedi_of_Books_and_Snacks
Summary: Everything Kogami sees around him in his years on the mainland reminds him of Tsunemori.





	you get lighter the more it gets dark

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["A Sky Full of Stars"](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/coldplay/askyfullofstars.html) by Coldplay.
> 
> All my thanks to [Keeroo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keeroo/pseuds/Keeroo), [Sandypenguin6](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandypenguin6/pseuds/sandypenguin6), and [thewrathofbombast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewrathofbombast/pseuds/thewrathofbombast). Your thoughts and comments were invaluable!

Being alone was interesting. It was like a philosophical extension of his usual state and, if he were being completely honest, they _were_ all alone in the end, weren’t they, when death knocked on their door. 

(Makishima’s wry laughter invaded his mind. He was getting better at ignoring it.) 

As for the rest. . . . Well, never mind that. He’d left it behind in Japan, on the other side of the gunshot. 

Cut loose from Shambala, he went north. Sometimes west. It didn’t matter much to him where he went--he could still hear all of their voices in his mind. Masaoka was understanding and accepting, Gino was his counterpoint. Kagari and Kunizuka only showed up sometimes, when he wanted a wry laugh or when the music hit the right beat. And Akane. . . . 

A small child of six, swinging her feet over the small stream below, sang unapologetically. The green jungle was lush around them and this kid was doing what all kids did and had found a way to enjoy her life, even if it was only for now. The stream trickled on and he knew she’d smile to hear this little girl, belting out the same refrain over and over again. 

The desire to share that peace with her came to him while he stood in the calm stillness of the night. Everyone else had gone to sleep and he stood in his window, watching the sky as clouds moved on above him and the stars burned with yellow light from hundreds, thousands, of years ago. 

The laughter of the man who cooked meals for them at his old camp always shone a light in the face of his greatest sorrows. As if to say, “Is that the best you have, world?” He knew she’d be inspired by his insight, by his unrelenting and optimistic perseverance.

There was the rustling of leaves in the trees outside his window when he stayed for a time in that one village, and the old grandmother’s wise, sad smile when her eyes landed on him. The one Japanese word she knew was “eat” and she was always trying to fill his stomach, like a Kagari born anew. He didn’t know if he was anything like someone she had lost a long time ago, but he treated this grandmother with respect borne of his knowledge of what the world could do to people, and how it could cut them down. He would thank her and try to eat something, warmed by his memory of Akane’s laughter (_Did you just gigglesnort? he said, and he watched her dissolve into laughter with her hand clutching her sandwich_). Grandmother would look at him and smile, and her eyes would drift off elsewhere as she sat on her porch. 

Ultimately, he spent a lot of time in bars. Reading with a beer or scotch, mostly, while life went on around him. Occasionally he caught someone’s eye, though he never made himself available like that, exactly. Sometimes he went with them. And tonight, he felt the distance between himself and home like a crack in the earth. He wanted to feel something to bring him closer to warm smiles and polite bows and the way his jacket felt snugged around his shoulders on a rainy day, her kind amusement in his ears. 

The woman he was with tonight had long hair, and big jewelry, and a smile that made him feel welcomed when he caught her eye. They’d left the bar and headed back to his cheap apartment with bad plumbing and windows that would not close. Something in the way she smiled at him reminded him of _her_. Something in the sharpness in her eyes made his thoughts return to long nights at work, with her sitting there typing away in the cool office. And now, so many miles and years away, this woman was in his bed and he was deep inside her body when he felt her walls pulse around him as she cried out. He came soon after, indulging in the foolish wish that he would be spilling himself into another’s warm body.

They smoked cigarettes afterward, she sat up in his bed while he laid on his back. The perpetually open windows were a blessing tonight since it was humid and sticky out, and the breeze that blew through them moved the air sullenly, as though it had better things to do. A puff of his cigarette relaxed him as he lay there, his body feeling light. He blew the smoke into the air slowly, to match the breeze. The sheets rustled as she leaned forward to ash in the tray he’d put between them on the bed, saying, “Who is Akane?”

His hand stilled in his hair. When did he say her name? He couldn’t have--

Her sharp voice spoke into the pause, explaining, “You called that name when you came.”

Shit. A deep breath went in and out again as he closed his eyes. Then, “She’s a woman I know--I mean, knew--in Japan.”

“Right.” He could hear her inhale and exhale, smoke blowing out of her mouth into the dim apartment. “Were you fucking her?”

“No.” The thought of a former Enforcer making a move on his former Inspector was to him the height of irony. His chuckle had a resigned edge. “I was not.”

There was a pause, where she took one more puff from the smoke. “You know what?” her fingers--and they were so long, not like hers--snuffed the cigarette in the ashtray. “I think I’m gonna go.”

Cursing himself would get him nothing, so instead, he lay there while she got up and got herself dressed. Her skirt was short and black and tight, not knee-length and body-skimming. Her yellow blouse was big-sleeved and loose and showed the red strap of her bra instead of being an off-the-rack work shirt. (In his memory, it had been light pink.) Her jewelry was brassy and large and her heels went high, none of which appealed to him, except for when he imagined those clothes on another. 

The shameful part of him made him get out of bed and pull on his underwear while she went to the bathroom. When she came out and he saw her to the door, she was all smiles and goodbyes, but the _welcome_ was gone, and he wasn’t getting that back. And, from the look in her eyes--well, he knew. 

The part of him that used to be polite, the part that held doors and that had some vague memory of being thoughtful and considerate, ticked this incident down in the _you’re-an-asshole_ slot. Guilty, still, that he had put her in this position, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Laughing with a brittle edge--at him or her, he couldn’t say--she picked up her purse and said, “Thanks for the fuck, Shinya.” 

After a wink, she made her way down the staircase and vanished into the humid night.

When she left, he opened a window even further and then sat on a chair, leaning over the sill. Spinel smoke disappeared into the thick night air. The stars shone down on him with their eternal watchfulness, as though they were reminiscent of the golden flecks contained in her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Now I cry.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at [jediofbooksandsnacks](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jediofbooksandsnacks).


End file.
